


All That We See or Seem

by sahiya



Series: Irondad Bingo 2019 [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, But also, Caretaking, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad Bingo 2019, Multiverse, Nightmares, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sleepy Cuddles, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-19 08:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19352809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sahiya/pseuds/sahiya
Summary: “There is one more thing, Tones,” Rhodey said, watching him.Oh God, Tony thought wearily. “What is it? Just tell me.”“Peter thought you were dead.”Tony blinked. “What?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for Fuzzyboo for the beta and for confirming that yes, I did need an epilogue, when I was feeling lazy and didn't want to write one. Thanks to xxx_cat_xxx for donating her Irondad Bingo card to me. This is for the "nightmares" square.
> 
> This takes place in the same universe as "Nursery School Hell Germs" and "Head Above Water" but has a little bit of a different vibe. For one thing, it sprouted a plot on me and therefore isn't just a vehicle for snuggles (though it has a fair amount of those). 
> 
> Title is pulled from Edgar Allan Poe's [A Dream within a Dream](https://interestingliterature.com/2018/12/30/a-dream-within-a-dream-a-poem-by-edgar-allan-poe/).

Tony was furious. Blindingly, breathtakingly angry.

“It took you twelve hours to call me?” he said, deliberately keeping his voice low. He didn’t want to be the asshole screaming in a hospital wing, ten feet from his kid’s surgical suite, but if he didn’t get some answers soon, he was going to be. “Twelve hours from the time Norman fucking Osborn got his hands on him, and _you didn’t call me_?”

Sam and Bucky at least had the good grace to look uncomfortable, but Rhodey didn’t even blink. “There was nothing you could’ve done that we weren’t already doing,” Rhodey said calmly. “And you’re retired, Tones. This isn’t your job anymore.”

“Are you fucking—okay.” Tony stopped and took a deep breath, holding his hand up. “Let’s get something straight right now. When it comes to Peter, it is _always_ my job. Until I am physically incapable of putting on the suit, it will be _my job_. You got that?”

Rhodey looked like he wanted to argue, but in the end he just nodded. “Noted.”

“Thank you.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “And thank you, all of you, for getting him out.”

“Of course, man,” Sam said, visibly relaxing just a fraction. 

“I hope you left a trail of chaos and destruction,” Tony said, looking mostly at Bucky. 

“Oh yeah,” he said, smiling grimly. “Got it all on video, too. Thought I’d set it to music and give it to the kid. Might be cathartic.”

Tony managed a smile. “He’d like that.” He buried his face in his hands briefly, trying to pull himself together. He hadn’t yet been able to bring himself to look through the viewing window to the room where Bruce and Helen were putting Peter back together. 

Rhodey said something quietly that Tony couldn’t make out to Sam and Bucky, and the two of them left. Rhodey took Tony by the arm and steered him over to a bank of chairs. “Deep breath, Tones,” Rhodey said, a steadying hand between Tony’s shoulder blades. “You heard Helen. Peter’s going to be fine.”

Tony took his glasses off and let them dangle from his fingers. “I need you to tell me what you saw. What that asshole did to him.”

“Helen and Bruce—”

“Will give me a list of physical injuries. But you know that’s not everything. I need to know—” Tony swallowed. “I need to know—I need to be prepared for the rest.”

Rhodey sighed. “This is just going to give you nightmares.” Tony glared at him stubbornly, and Rhodey sighed again, this time in acquiescence. He put his hand on Tony’s wrist, squeezed once, and left it there. “He was strapped to a table at a forty-five degree angle. There were marks all over his body, some fresh and some almost healed. He had compound fractures in both legs, and it looked like the skin and muscle had started to knit back together around the exposed bone. I think that’s most of what Helen and Bruce are working on in there.”

Tony felt bile rise in his throat. He swallowed. “What else?”

“He was conscious but out of it. We thought at first that it was a head injury—he had two black eyes and a goose egg on the back of his head, probably from when they took him—but then we realized he’d been drugged. He was pretty... disoriented. They’d left a lot of shit lying around, so Sam grabbed as much of it as he could.”

Tony frowned at him. “What do you mean by ‘disoriented’?”

Rhodey squeezed his wrist again. “He didn’t recognize Sam and Bucky and kept fighting them, but he was too weak to do a lot of damage. I finally put my faceplate up and he recognized me. He let us help him after that, thank God. But he was still really woozy and sick. He puked twice on our way out.”

“Jesus,” Tony said. His phone buzzed and he glanced at it. Happy was letting him know that he and May would be there in about an hour. _Kid’s still in surgery_ , he wrote back to him. _But he’s stable. Drive safe._

 _Always do, boss_ , Happy replied. 

Tony put the phone away. “Happy and May are on their way,” he reported.

Rhodey nodded. “That’s good. Pepper’s at the house with Morgan?”

“Yeah. We didn’t think it’d be good for her to be here, especially if they have a hard time getting his pain under control. She’s never seen him... like this before.”

Tony couldn’t bring himself to use the word _tortured_ , even though that was the right description. Peter hadn’t been injured in a fight. He’d been strapped to a table and deliberately hurt, because Norman Osborn was a sadistic son of a bitch with an unhealthy fascination with Tony’s kid. A fascination that was about to get exponentially more unhealthy for him. 

“There is one more thing, Tones,” Rhodey said, watching him.

 _Oh God_ , Tony thought wearily. “What is it? Just tell me.”

“He thought you were dead.”

Tony blinked. “What?”

“He thought—he was utterly convinced—that you were dead. I was carrying him out, and he was kind of panicking, so I started telling him I was taking him to see you, that you’d meet us at the compound. Only instead of calming down, that freaked him out even more, and he started accusing me of lying to him, saying that you were dead and he knew you were dead, and begging me to stop lying to him. I couldn’t convince him you were alive, and we really needed to get the fuck out of there. Finally I just told him I’d stop lying to him, and that calmed him down enough for me to carry him out.”

“So whatever he was on made him hallucinate?” Tony said, frowning.

“Maybe,” Rhodey said. “Must’ve been damn convincing. The poor kid was out of his mind.”

Tony rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah. Okay. I don’t... I don’t know what to do with that. Hopefully whatever was in his system will have flushed out by the time he wakes up.”

Rhodey nodded, and the two of them fell quiet. Sam and Bucky returned a couple minutes later with coffee and food from the mess. Tony accepted a cup of coffee but left the food to the people who’d done the actual superheroing that day. 

It still rankled that they hadn’t called him. Now that he wasn’t in a blind rage of protective instincts, he could admit that it’d probably been the right decision, but he still hated it. He found himself too twitchy to sit still any longer, so he went to stand at the observation window.

There wasn’t much to see. Bruce’s broad back obscured most of Peter’s body, aside from his head, covered with a surgical cap, and his feet, covered by a sheet. Tony could see his vital signs, though, and they were holding steady. 

He’d be all right physically, Tony was sure, even if this took him a little longer than usual to bounce back from. But there was a reason that Tony had made Rhodey tell him what he’d seen. He’d had to know what they were dealing with psychologically. 

It’d been about as bad as Tony had expected from the moment Sam had called him to tell him to meet them at the compound. “Osborn grabbed Peter during patrol last night and had him for about twelve hours,” Sam had said bluntly, as Tony’s entire body went ice cold and then flaming hot. Tony knew it had been a mistake not to take Osborn more seriously. Peter had shrugged it off and insisted he could handle it, but Tony had had a feeling––and now, here they were. 

He’d touched Tony’s kid. Strapped him to a table and made him bleed. Tony was going to _bury_ him. There was nowhere Norman Osborn could hide from him. He was going to wish he’d never heard the name ‘Peter Parker’ when Tony was done with him. 

***

By the time they wheeled Peter out of surgery, Tony had already set his plans in motion, with the help of FRIDAY and––a little surprisingly––Nick Fury. Fury was a manipulative son of a bitch, but apparently he had a soft spot for Peter. 

“Don’t mistake this for any kind of sign that I like you, Stark,” Fury said. 

“Hard same,” Tony replied. “This is a very rare and extenuating circumstance.”

“Damn right. I’ll call you when it’s done.” Fury hung up.

Bucky and Sam disappeared soon after, leaving Rhodey with Tony and May. They didn’t say anything, but Tony was 98% sure Fury had called them in. He itched at being left behind, but no one had given him another option. Despite—or because of—the rage simmering in his gut, he was pretty sure that was the right call.

For now.

Tony kept quiet about anything related to Osborn as Bruce and Helen briefed Tony and May on the surgery. Things had gone well, there hadn’t been any issues with the anesthesia, and they were sure he’d make a full recovery. 

“I’m sensing a ‘but,’” Tony said, once Helen finished summarizing this. 

The two of them exchanged a glance. “But,” Bruce said, a little apologetically, “we have some of the preliminary results from the blood we took when he first came in. And they are... strange. Stranger than usual for Peter,” he amended. “We don’t know what he was dosed with, or in what combinations.”

“Peter got his powers from a spider at OsCorp, didn’t he?” May said, glancing at Tony. She had her arms wrapped around herself, as though she was cold. Tony reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it. 

“He did. And Osborn’s been interested in him ever since he figured that out,” Tony said grimly. “So what do you suggest?”

“We’d like him to stay here while he recovers, for observation,” Bruce said. 

“No,” Tony said flatly. 

Bruce sighed. “I know it’s not ideal––”

“He hates hospitals,” Tony said. “And needles. His anxiety is going to be through the roof, from being tor––” he glanced at May and swallowed the rest of the word––“kidnapped. We need to get him out of here as soon as possible for the sake of his recovery.”

“I don’t disagree, but we don’t know what he was given,” Bruce said patiently. “Let’s see how he’s doing when he wakes up.”

Grudgingly, Tony agreed. For better or worse, they didn’t have to wait long; the kid’s metabolism meant that he burned through anesthesia. They’d barely gotten him into one of the private rooms––which were decorated more like upscale hotel rooms but still smelled like a hospital––when Peter started twitching. Tony let May have top billing, while he perched on the end of the bed, resting one hand on Peter’s blanket-covered foot. Bruce and Helen hovered. 

He stirred sluggishly at first and then sighed. “May?” Tony heard him mumble.

“Right here, baby,” she murmured. “You want some ice chips?”

“Yeah...”

May gave him an ice chip or two from the cup on the bedside table. Bruce stepped up to his bedside. “How are you feeling, Peter?” he asked. 

“Weird...”

“That’s not surprising. You’re pretty recently post-op. Do you remember what happened?” 

Peter was silent. Tony couldn’t really see his face, except in the reflection of the monitor. “Osborn,” he finally said. His toes curled beneath Tony’s hand. “He... oh, oh God. May––Tony, is Tony––”

“Hey, kid, I’m here,” Tony said, squeezing Peter’s foot. May leaned back so that Peter could see him. “I’m right here.”

Peter’s face relaxed. He stretched the hand that May wasn’t holding out to him, and Tony got up to sit on the other side of the bed. He took Peter’s hand in his and laced their fingers together. Peter held on with surprising strength, given that he looked like holding his own head up would be a challenge at the moment. He looked up at Tony with tears standing in his eyes. “I thought you were dead.”

“I know, Rhodey told me. I’m not, though.”

Peter bit his lip. “It was... it was really real. It felt...”

“Hey, it’s okay, Pete,” Tony said, sweeping his thumb over the back of Peter’s hand soothingly. “You had a head injury and a bunch of OsCorp mystery drugs floating around in you, of course you didn’t know which way was up.”

“Speaking of which,” Bruce added, “and I hate to ask you to think about this right now, but do you remember anything about what he did to you? Did he say anything at all?”

Peter frowned. “I––I don’t know. I don’t really remember.” He shuddered. “My legs, he broke my legs.”

“He did,” Tony confirmed gently. “You want the rundown?” Peter nodded. Tony glanced at Helen, and she stepped forward, Peter’s chart in her hands. 

“Two compound fractures,” she said. “Those were the most significant injuries. We reset them, and they should heal properly. You also have a severe concussion, four cracked ribs, extensive bruising, and a lot of cuts at various stages of healing.”

“Yeah,” Peter muttered. “I remember that now. He was trying to get data on my healing factor. I––I think he might’ve given me something that might fuck with it? He was trying to slow it down.”

Tony gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. _Nowhere he could hide from him_ , he reminded himself. “We’ll keep an eye on that, then,” was all he said aloud, even as May turned to look at him with horror. 

Helen nodded. “It’s unlikely that anything he gave you would affect you permanently, but it might slow your progress for the next few days or weeks.”

“He gave me something else,” Peter said. “I can’t... I can’t remember...”

The beeping of the heart monitor sped up. Tony squeezed Peter’s hand. “Hey, hey, Pete, it’s okay. Don’t think about it right now. You’re okay.”

“Tony’s right,” Bruce said. “Don’t try to think about it right now. We took some blood. We’ll run some tests and keep an eye on you.”

Peter bit his lip. “When can I go home?”

“We’re still figuring that out,” May said, reaching out to push a strand of hair behind his ear. “You just rest for now, all right?”

“Okay,” Peter whispered. 

It didn’t take Peter long to fall asleep again. He slept a lot when he was injured, and he still had OsCorp crud in his system. Tony left May with him and stepped out into the hallway with Bruce and Helen. 

Bruce and Helen exchanged another glance. “I’d like to keep him here for another twenty-four hours,” Bruce finally said. “If he’s healing steadily––even if it’s a little slower than usual––and not showing signs of any further delusions, then I’m comfortable sending him home. Do you agree, Helen?”

“Yes,” she said. “That seems reasonable. One of us can drive up in a few days and re-examine him.”

Tony felt his shoulders fall. He hadn’t even realized they’d been tense. “Thanks. I think that’ll be better for him.”

“I am... concerned about what else Osborn might’ve given him,” Bruce said. “It seems likely it was something psychotropic, and that’s just not my area. I want you to keep an eye out for any symptoms, anything out of the ordinary at all. He seems lucid, if shaken up, so hopefully it was short-lived.”

Tony nodded. “Thank you, both of you.”

“Of course,” Bruce said, and gave him a smile and a very gentle squeeze with one enormous green hand. 

Inside Peter’s hospital room, he was asleep with all the blankets pulled up to his chin. May was holding his hand, resting her forehead in her opposite hand. She looked exhausted. Tony sat down in the chair beside hers, and she lifted her head to look at him. “Tell me,” she said. 

He filled her in, succinctly, on the plan. “We can decide whether we want him to go back to the city or to the lake house,” he finished, even though he knew which one he preferred. 

“The lake house is closer to the compound in case of an emergency,” May said, a little dully, “and between you and Pepper, someone can be home with him all the time. I have to work.”

“We could make the city work. Pepper and I still have the penthouse at Stark Tower.”

May shook her head. “I’d rather have him out of the city, to be honest.”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “Me too.”

She drew a sharp breath and looked at him. “Norman Osborn––”

“––is being taken care of,” Tony said grimly. May kept looking at him. Tony reached out and covered her hand, where it covered Peter’s. “I swear to you, by the time we’re done with him, he’ll regret ever having even _looked_ at Peter wrong.”

“Good,” May said fiercely, and the two of them exchanged a look of complete understanding. 

Norman Osborn had signed his own death warrant the moment he’d touched Peter Parker. 

***

They took Peter home to the lake house two days later. Rather, Tony took him; the lake house was two hours in the wrong direction for May and Happy, so it was decided that they would go back to the city and come visit over the weekend. 

Peter swore up and down that he was fine with the plan, but Tony could tell that he didn’t want to let his aunt go. He put on a brave face, though, and Tony was pretty sure he’d be okay once they were there.

“This really isn’t what I had in mind for my summer break,” Peter sighed as Tony helped him transfer from the wheelchair into the Audi. Both his legs were immobile, and they had them as elevated as possible in the front seat. 

“Hey, at least you’ll get all the R&R you could possibly want,” Tony said. “And this time, you won’t be trying to read Kant with a hundred and two degree fever.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Peter grumbled. 

Tony closed the door and straightened up to look at Bruce, who had come out to see them off. “We’ll see you in a couple of days?”

Bruce nodded. “I can be there sooner if I have to. It’s just a quick jaunt in the Quinjet. Anything––anything at all––you call me.”

“I will.” Tony hugged him, grunting as Bruce squeezed him just a little too hard, and went around to climb in the driver’s seat. “You ready, kid?” he asked Peter. 

“So ready.”

Tony ruffled Peter’s hair gently and drove them away from the compound.

Bruce had given Peter a higher-than-normal dose of painkiller for the drive, so Peter slept for most of it. Tony kept sneaking looks over at him, checking on him, unable to shake the residual anxiety from days in the hospital wing of the compound. Peter wasn’t the only one who’d been ready to go home. 

Pepper called when they were about forty-five minutes out from the lake house. “Hi Pep,” Tony said, keeping his voice low. “Kid’s asleep. We’re a little less than an hour away.”

“Good,” she said. “I think we’re all set up here. The ramp was installed yesterday, and we moved the furniture on the first floor so there’s a wide enough path for the wheelchair from the kitchen to his room. The bathrooms on the first floor were already accessible, but I had them install a handle in his shower, as a safety precaution.”

Tony was briefly and intensely grateful for Pepper. “Thanks for taking care of that. How’s Morgan doing?”

“She’s... confused. I’ve told her that Peter was hurt and he’s going to be in a wheelchair for a little while, so we need to keep the toys off the floor. She seems to be doing okay with it so far.”

“Good, good.” Peter made a small noise in his sleep. Tony glanced over at him and saw that he was starting to shift restlessly. “Gotta go, Pep. See you in a few.”

“Drive safe. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” FRIDAY disconnected the call. Tony engaged the self-driving feature and reached over to brush his hand across Peter’s forehead, pushing his curls off his face. Peter made the noise again, a small, distressed sound, and turned his face toward Tony, pushing into his palm. “Hey, Pete,” Tony said, turning sideways in his seat. He moved his hand to Peter’s shoulder. “Come on, kid. Wake up.”

Peter came awake with more of a twitch than a start. He groaned and looked up at Tony, blinking in bewilderment. “Where––what––”

“We’re in the car on the way to the lake house,” Tony reminded him. “You okay?”

Peter grimaced and used the controls on the side of the seat to sit himself up. “Yeah. Just... nightmare.”

“Osborn?” 

“Sort of,” Peter mumbled. 

“What does that mean?”

Peter didn’t answer. His hands were clenched tightly in his lap. Tony uncurled them gently and saw that they were shaking. “Pete?”

“Nothing,” Peter said, refusing to look at him. “Just a nightmare.”

Tony frowned. He was still holding Peter’s hands in his. “You want to talk about it?”

“No,” Peter said. He pulled his hands away and tucked them into the kangaroo pouch of his hoodie. “I really don’t. Just... can we drop it, please?”

Tony didn’t want to drop it, but he didn’t think much would be gained from pressing Peter any further and agitating him. He nodded. “Okay.”

“Thanks.” Peter rubbed a hand over his face. “We’re almost there?”

“About half an hour,” Tony confirmed, turning back to the wheel. He took control back from the self-driving feature, mostly to give himself something to do. They were nearly the only car on the road. “You want to nap some more?”

“Maybe,” Peter said, and fell quiet. But he didn’t sleep; Tony, glancing over intermittently, could see that he was looking out the window, silent and still in a way that Peter rarely was. 

It was, if Tony was honest, a little unnerving. 

He livened up as they approached the house. He sat his chair the rest of the way up and ran his hands through the rat’s nest his hair had become, obviously trying to put it in some semblance of order. Tony directed him to the comb he kept in the glove compartment, and Peter tugged it through his curls. 

“You know you don’t have to impress anyone, right?” Tony teased him gently. 

“I don’t want to look sick.”

“You’re injured, kid,” Tony pointed out. “Pepper and Morgan both know that.”

“I know, but I don’t want to freak Morgan out,” Peter said. “The wheelchair will be hard enough, I don’t want to look half-dead.”

Tony was surprised into silence. He’d been worried about how Morgan would react to seeing Peter injured, but it hadn’t occurred to him that Peter would have the bandwidth to worry about it. Or that he would think to worry about it, even if he did. 

“Tony?” Peter said after a few seconds. 

“Sorry,” Tony said, glancing over at him. “You’re a good kid, you know that? Morgan is really lucky to have you.”

Peter looked taken aback. “Um... what have you done with Tony Stark?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “I try to say something nice and all I get is sass.”

“No, but seriously, are you sure you aren’t a Life Model Decoy?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Would you know, though?”

“Peter,” Tony said firmly, “I mean it. Morgan is lucky to have you. We all are.”

Peter went very pink. “Well, thanks,” he mumbled. “Dunno what I did.”

“I know, kid.” Tony reached over and rubbed the back of his neck. “I know you don’t.”

***

Morgan was sitting on the newly installed wheelchair ramp when they pulled up, chin in her hands, watching the driveway like a hawk. At the sight of the car she jumped to her feet, but she knew better than to come running toward it. Tony could tell it was killing her not to; she balled her hands into fists and stayed where she was, at the top of the ramp. 

Tony cut the engine and opened the door. That was her signal to take off flying down the ramp to jump into his arms. He caught her. “Morguna, did you miss me?”

“Yes,” she said, hugging him. “I missed you five thousand!”

Tony chuckled. “I missed you six thousand, how’s that? But I hear you were really good for Mom while I was gone.”

“I was! Did you bring Peter?”

“I did. If you let me go, we can help him out of the car.” She let go and slid out of his arms. Once she was down, he stopped her from running around the car right away. He knelt down in front of her. “Hey, kiddo, before we do that, I know Mom told you that Peter was hurt.” She nodded, looking more serious and uncertain this time. “That means we have to be gentle with him, all right? Don’t jump on him.”

She nodded again, frowning. She grabbed Tony’s hand and kept hold of it as they went around the car. 

Peter had opened the door and taken his seat belt off, but that was about as far as he’d gotten. He smiled when he saw her, dredging up the energy for it from God-knew-where. “Hi, Morgan, how’s it going?” he greeted her, a little too aggressively cheerful. 

Morgan didn’t respond. Tony watched her take Peter in, cataloguing all the things that were wrong with him––the two broken legs, the still-healing black eyes, the general air of exhaustion and illness that clung to him, even though he’d combed his hair. She still didn’t let go of Tony’s hand. After a few seconds, Peter reached out a hand toward her. 

Morgan took a step back. 

Peter froze. So did Tony, for that matter.

“Hey, kiddo, it’s okay,” Peter said softly. “It’s just me.”

Morgan didn’t answer. Her hand tightened on Tony’s. Tony heard her suck in a tremulous breath and knew, without even having to look at her, that she was about to start crying.

She let go of his hand and bolted up the ramp, past Pepper, and into the house. 

Tony looked at Peter, who seemed stunned. Then he looked at Pepper, who seemed far less surprised. “Well,” he said aloud, “shit.”

The stunned look on Peter’s face was rapidly morphing into devastation. “I knew it,” he said, voice tight, “I knew I’d scare her. I should’ve––dammit, I should’ve let May take me back to the city.” 

“She’ll get over it,” Tony said firmly. “It’s just going to take her a while. Right, Pep?” he added, when Pepper joined them at the car. 

“Right,” Pepper said. “She’s just realizing what I meant when I said you were hurt, that’s all. She still adores you.”

Peter swallowed. “I guess.”

“I don’t guess,” Tony said. “I _know_.”

“Me too,” Pepper said. “How are you feeling, Peter? You look like you should be in bed.”

“I’m feeling a lot better,” Peter said, smiling up at her. “Thanks for having me, Pepper.”

“Anytime, sweetie, you know that.” She stepped forward and kissed Peter’s forehead, then smoothed his hair back. “Come on, let’s get you into the house.”

There was no sign of Morgan as they helped Peter maneuver up the ramp and into the house. Peter cast a brief glance at the living room, with its foldout sofa and TV, but said he wanted to lie down in his own room. 

In addition to some changes in furniture layout, Pepper had installed a TV in Peter’s room. None of the bedrooms in the lake house had built-in screens, because when Morgan was little they’d done their best to keep her away from them, but Pepper had relented under the circumstances. Tony helped Peter change into pajamas, use the bathroom, and slide under the covers. Pepper went to get him something to eat so he could have his next dose of medication, and Tony sat down on the bed beside him. 

“What are we watching?” he asked, watching Peter flip through the offerings on the streaming service. 

Peter looked at him and then away, biting his lip. “You don’t have to stay with me. You should probably go make sure Morgan’s okay.”

Tony eyed him back. “Do you want me to go?”

“No,” Peter admitted with a shrug. “But I don’t _need_ you to stay.”

Tony rubbed a hand over Peter’s shoulder. “Maybe I need to stay, did you ever think of that?” From the surprised and slightly disbelieving look Peter threw him, Tony suspected not. “Humor me, Pete. I’ll go check on Morgan in a bit.” 

Peter’s comfort viewing was all pre-snap. He’d watch stuff from the five years he was gone, or from the years since his return, but if he was down and out, he wanted _Brooklyn Nine-Nine_ or _Parks and Rec_ or _Deep Space Nine_. If things were _really_ dire, he wanted _The Great British Bake-Off_ or _Queer Eye_. 

Things apparently weren’t that dire today. He put on the mumps episode of _Brooklyn Nine-Nine_ , which Tony had seen so often he could probably quote it. Tony held his arm out, and Peter tucked himself under it. 

“Painkillers kicking in again?” Tony asked. 

“Mmm,” Peter replied, which was all the answer Tony needed. He slid down and lay his head in Tony’s lap, then picked up Tony’s hand and put it in his hair. 

Tony chuckled. “Message received.” He relaxed back against the headboard, moving his hand slowly through Peter’s curls, half-watching the TV and half looking out the window at the bit of lake that he could see. It looked like it might rain that afternoon. 

It didn’t take Peter more than ten minutes to fall asleep, but Tony stayed until the episode was finished. He was reluctant to move, considering that this was the most comfortable and peaceful he’d felt in ages. But he had another kid who needed him. He turned the TV off before it could start the next episode and eased himself out from beneath Peter, slipping a pillow into his place. 

Pepper was in the kitchen making May’s “raspberry stuff.” Tony kissed her, since he hadn’t had a chance to do that yet, what with getting the kid out of the car and settled in his room. “Where’s our bug?”

“Outside,” Pepper said, glancing through the kitchen window. Tony could see Morgan’s tent from there. “She was looking forward to making this when we got the ingredients at the store yesterday, but she wouldn’t help just now.”

Tony winced. “Should I take a peace offering, do you think?” he asked, going to the freezer. “Has she had one yet today?”

“Not yet,” Pepper said. “You might as well, it might be the only way you get her to come out.”

Tony took an orange juice pop and a cherry one, kissed Pepper one more time, and headed out to Morgan’s tent. “Hmm, who’s going to help me eat these two juice pops before they melt?” he wondered aloud, lowering himself to sit on her tiny chair. “Or will I have to do it all by myself?”

There was a tiny bit of movement inside, and Morgan peeked out. Tony held the juice pops up. “Cherry or orange, kiddo?”

“Cherry,” she said, reaching for it. 

“Nope. You gotta come out.”

She hesitated. But Tony held steady, and eventually she came out and accepted it from him. Tony pulled her onto his lap. “You okay, baby?”

She nodded. 

“Did it scare you to see Peter like that?”

“Yeah,” she whispered. 

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Tony said, and pressed his cheek to her hair. “It scares me, too.”

She twisted around and looked at him. Her mouth was shiny with red juice. “Really?”

Tony nodded. “It’s scary when someone we love gets hurt. I used to get hurt a lot when I was Iron Man, and it scared Mom, because she loves me. I love Peter, so when he gets hurt, it scares me.”

She was still frowning. “Mommy said a bad guy did that to him.”

“Yep. But you don’t need to worry about that,” Tony added firmly. “That’s a grown-up problem, and I promise you that the grown-ups are taking care of it. You trust me?” She nodded. “Good. Now, you know what helps with feeling scared when someone you love gets hurt?”

“What?”

“Helping them feel better. Peter’s taking a nap right now, but when he wakes up, I bet he’ll want some of your patented Morgan Stark Cuddles.”

She sucked the last bit of juice pop off the stick. “I am really good at cuddles,” she said seriously.

“You are,” Tony said, smiling at her. “And that’s what Peter needs from us right now, all right? Lots of love and cuddles, so that he can feel safe and calm and get better. Can you help with that?”

“I can.” She bit her lip. “Do you think he wants a stuffie?”

“I bet he’d love one. Just one, though, okay?” he added, remembering how Morgan had tucked him in with _all_ her stuffed animals when he’d been sick with the flu. 

“Okay. How about Stitch?” she suggested, sliding off his lap. 

“I think he’d love Stitch,” Tony said, standing up so she could grab his hand and pull him toward the house. “We can even watch Stitch’s movie when Peter wakes up. That sound good?”

“Yep,” she agreed. She dropped his hand as they came in the house and ran up the stairs toward her room. 

“Crisis averted?” Pepper asked when Tony came back into the kitchen. She’d finished cooking and was up to her elbows in dish suds.

“Crisis averted,” Tony confirmed. “It scared her, seeing him so injured. Can’t say I blame her,” he added, taking a dish from her to dry and put away. 

Pepper looked at him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “It’s just––I’ve seen the kid injured enough times, you’d think I’d get used to it. But this one feels different. It feels... personal. Osborn hurt him the way that he did because he was Peter. And I know that Bucky and Sam and Rhodey had it under control, but I hate that I didn’t know anything until it was all over.”

Pepper dried her hands on a dishtowel. She took the pot in Tony’s hands away from him and set it on the counter. Then she hugged him. It took Tony a few seconds to relax into her, but finally he dropped his head so that it rested in the crook of her neck. “I know how hard this is for you,” she said softly. “I did it for years. It does feel different when it’s personal, and I know you hate feeling helpless. But this is the part that no one else can do for him. This is when he needs you the most. You got that?”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “I do. It’s just... it’s harder than I thought it’d be.”

“I know,” Pepper said. She pulled back and looked at him, mouth twisted in irony. “Believe me, I know.”

Tony sighed. “I know you do. I put you through a lot. I don’t even think I appreciated how much at the time.”

“No, you didn’t,” she agreed. She traced the arch of his cheek with her thumb. “But it got us here, so I’m okay with it. You should be, too.”

“I’m trying,” he said. And he was. He didn’t think he’d ever tried so hard at anything before in his life. Nothing, not even Iron Man, had ever felt as important as this did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here be the promised cuddles.

Peter woke up in distress.

That was the phrase that FRIDAY used when she interrupted the book that Morgan was reading to Tony in the living room. “Boss, I’m sorry to interrupt, but Peter is awake and he is in distress.”

Morgan looked up as Tony got to his feet. “Does he need cuddles?”

“In a little bit, maybe,” Tony said, catching Pepper’s eye where she was reading in the chair. “I’ll let you know, okay, kiddo?”

Tony didn’t know quite what to expect, since “in distress” could mean a lot of things. In this case, it meant Peter was in tears, struggling to sit up and maybe even get out of bed, despite having just had surgery to repair two compound fractures. Then he saw Tony and made a noise like he’d been punched in the gut. “Mr. Stark?” he gasped. 

Tony blinked in bemusement; Peter hadn’t called him “Mr. Stark” since he’d come back from the soul stone. “It’s just me, kid,” he said, moving swiftly to sit on the edge of the bed. “Another nightmare?”

Peter nodded wordlessly. He reached out and Tony captured his hands. Peter tipped forward and Tony wrapped his arms around him, holding him close, tucking him under his chin. “Everything’s okay. You’re at the lake house, Morgan and Pepper are right down the hall. You’re safe. Everyone you care about is safe.”

Peter made a terrible, wounded noise. Tony held him tighter and felt dampness seeping into his shirt. “Oh, kid. If I could take this from you, I would,” Tony murmured. “I know how hard it is to come back from something like this.”

Peter sniffled. “Is... is this what it was like for you after Afghanistan?”

“More or less. But I was bad at letting people in. I don’t know that anyone except JARVIS knew. He used to talk me down after the nightmares. The AI JARVIS, I mean. The human Jarvis was long gone by then.” He sighed, burying his nose briefly in Peter’s hair. “I wish you could have met him. Either of them.”

Peter didn’t answer for a few seconds. “I can’t imagine doing this without you,” he finally said, in a strange voice. 

“Well, then it’s lucky that you don’t have to. Nothing could keep me from you right now, kid. Nothing.” Tony pulled away just enough to look at him. “How’re you doing? A little better?”

Peter’s eyes were red-rimmed and watery, but he nodded. Tony kissed his forehead. “So, I might’ve promised Morgan that we’d watch _Lilo and Stitch_.”

Peter gave a tiny laugh. “I like _Lilo and Stitch_.”

“I know you do. Want me to help you to the bathroom before I let her in here? Might be the last bit of privacy you have for a while.”

“I don’t think it counts as privacy if you’re there,” Peter grumbled. “But sure.”

“Hey, it beats a bedpan,” Tony pointed out as he unfolded the wheelchair and helped Peter transfer over. 

“Definitely,” Peter said. “Or a catheter.”

Tony made a face. “Don’t remind me, kid.”

Peter had sweat straight through his pajama top, so once he was done in the bathroom, Tony helped him change into dry, clean sweatpants and an MIT t-shirt. Sitting up on the bed, both legs propped up, Peter looked—well, he still didn’t look great, but he looked a lot more like himself. 

“Ready?” Tony asked, hand on the doorknob. 

Peter nodded. 

Tony opened the door. Just as he’d suspected, Morgan was crouched down outside, Monkmonk in one arm and Stitch in the other. 

“Hey, Morguna,” Tony said, crouching down. “Ready to see Peter?”

She nodded. 

“Remember what I said?”

“No jumping. Lots of cuddles.”

“Exactly,” Tony said, pushing a strand of hair behind her hair. 

She had a brave face on, but Tony could tell she was nervous as she padded over to the bed. “Hey, kiddo,” Peter said, less aggressively cheerful than before. 

“Hi.” She held Stitch out to him. “I brought you Stitch so he can make you feel better.”

“Thanks,” Peter said, taking Stitch from her. “I’m going to keep him right here next to me. You want to climb up, too?”

“Yeah. Daddy said we need to give you lots of cuddles so you get better, and I’m the best cuddler.”

“You are.” Peter’s voice cracked suspiciously, but he cleared his throat and recovered. “Hop on up. Your dad said we were going to watch _Lilo and Stitch_.”

Morgan climbed up, and Tony helped her maneuver around Peter’s legs. She ended up curled against Peter’s side, tucked under his arm. Tony retreated to the doorway. 

“FRIDAY,” he murmured, as quietly as possible, “you’re recording this, right?”

“Yes, boss,” she replied. 

“Tony, what are you doing all the way over there?” Peter asked, looking up. “Get over here.”

“Where’s Mommy?” Morgan asked, a faint whine in her voice. 

“Mom’s right here,” Pepper said, appearing behind Tony with a tray in her hands. It had four bowls of the raspberry stuff on it. FRIDAY paused the movie––which had barely moved beyond the opening credits anyway––while bowls and spoons were distributed, and Tony made sure Peter had access to his water bottle. Tony started to pull up a chair, but Peter made big sad eyes at him until he wedged himself onto the bed next to him. Pepper managed to squish onto his other side by pulling Morgan mostly into her lap. 

“FRIDAY, take a picture and send it to May,” Tony said around a bite of raspberry Jello and applesauce. “And then save it to the folder marked ‘for the Christmas card.’”

Peter groaned. “Tony, no. I look like shit, you can’t use this for the Christmas card.”

“You don’t look that bad,” Pepper said. “And you should’ve seen the picture of me he used the year we had Morgan.”

“Pepper, my love, you are radiant at all times.”

“No one is radiant after thirty-seven hours of labor.”

“Yikes,” Peter said. “I don’t think I knew that.”

“She was in the ninety-seventh percentile for head size,” Pepper informed him wryly. 

Peter made a horrified noise. “Pep, the kid’s been through enough recently, don’t you think?” Tony said. 

“Men should not require a fainting couch to deal with the realities of women’s bodies, Tony,” she replied sternly. “But all right, yes, I’ll save further graphic detail for when you’re not recovering from a head injury. And for when you’re a little less... captive.”

“Thanks,” Peter said, grinning at her. 

They all settled in, and FRIDAY re-started the movie. Tony finished his bowl of raspberry stuff and set it on the nightstand, exchanging it for his phone. 

May had texted him back. _Jealous of your cuddle pile!_ she’d written. _Is that my raspberry stuff? Pepper said she was going to make it._

_Yes. If Morgan had her way we’d eat it every week._

_It’s tried and true kid food. Peter looks better than he did in the hospital._

Tony sneaked a sideways glance at Peter. He’d turned as much onto his side as possible and was curled around Morgan, with Stitch and Monkmonk in between them. _Yeah. Though he’s been having nightmares._

_I guess that’s to be expected._

Tony hesitated to agree. On the one hand––yes. After something like what Peter had gone through, nightmares were to be expected. But on the other hand––something was off. Tony couldn’t have said what it was that was pinging his Peter-sense, but something wasn’t right. 

Before Tony could figure out what to say, she texted again. _Any word from your friend with the eyepatch?_

_No_ , he replied. _I’ll check in with him tonight. If there’s anything to report, I’ll let you know._

_Thx. Kiss our kid for me. Tell him I’ll talk to him tonight after dinner._

Tony set his phone down and leaned over to kiss the top of Peter’s head. “From May. She says she’ll call tonight after dinner.”

“Oh,” Peter said, a little sleepily. “Thanks.”

It was just about time for Morgan’s nap, so she conked out pretty quickly. Pepper bailed out, too, halfway through the movie, to make a phone call and deal with something happening on the other side of the world. Tony thought Peter might fall asleep, but he didn’t. He did sort of shift onto his other side, leaning more against Tony. 

Tony secretly liked _Lilo and Stitch_ , so it took him a few minutes to realize something was wrong with Peter. It wasn’t until he glanced down to share a chuckle at one of the jokes that he realized Peter had tears streaming down his cheeks. “Whoa,” he said, smile fading quickly. “What’s wrong? Are you in pain? Do you need a pill?”

Peter shook his head, then nodded, then burst into tears and buried his face in Tony’s chest. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, clinging to him. “I d-don’t want t-to wake up M-morgan.”

“She’s fine, Pete. What’s going on?”

Peter sniffled. “N-nothing. The movie just got to me, that’s all.”

“The movie?” Tony repeated. He used the remote to pause it. “You’ve seen this movie a hundred times.”

“I know, but this time it just—“ Peter swallowed. “You didn’t leave me behind. You risked so much to get me back. And—and you could’ve—Morgan could’ve—” He broke into fresh sobs. Tony held him, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. 

“Are you sure you don’t need a pill?” Tony asked, because it’d been a while since his last one, and that, at least, Tony could fix. 

“Maybe,” Peter admitted. Tony grabbed the pill bottle off the nightstand and shook one out for him. Peter swallowed it with a pull from his water bottle. 

Tony pulled him close and tucked him under his chin. “I did risk a lot to get you back. The risk was worth it to me, though, because you’re my family. You were my family before I had a family. You made me realize I wanted one. Once I knew there was a way to get you back, there was no stopping me.”

Peter’s breath hitched. “You could’ve died.”

Tony frowned where Peter couldn’t see it. Where the hell had that come from? “I knew that. It was worth the risk to me. And I didn’t, so it’s not really worth you getting so upset about now.”

“Yeah,” Peter said, shakily. 

Tony rubbed a hand up and down Peter’s arm. “What’s all this about, kid? What’s going on in your head? Talk to me, please. I can’t help if I don’t know.”

Peter was silent for a long time. “I’m just in pain and loopy from the drugs,” he finally said. “Guess it made me kind of emotional. Maybe... maybe no movies with orphans for a while. Or—or dead parents in general.”

“Well, that rules out most of Disney,” Tony said ruefully. “But okay, Pete. Whatever you need.”

Peter sucked in a breath. “I need you,” he said, his grip on Tony briefly tightening to the point of pain. “Right here. With me. Not—not saving the universe. Please.”

“Okay,” Tony said softly. “Okay, Peter. I can do that.”

***

That night after dinner, while his kids watched the original _Toy Story_ —no orphans, no dead parents—in the living room, Tony went upstairs and called Nick Fury.

“Give us twelve hours,” Fury said. “Wilson and Barnes are getting close. Unless you want to be in on the takedown?”

“No,” Tony said. “I mean, I do, but—but I think I’m more needed here. I trust Sam and Bucky to get the job done.”

“Good answer. You might just pass retirement this time.”

Tony had to laugh. “I’m pretty bad at it.”

“You won’t see me throwing stones,” Fury said wryly. “I couldn’t stop if I tried. But I also don’t have the same incentives you do. Speaking of, how’s the kid?”

“He’s... doing better,” Tony said, deciding that even if Fury did seem to like Peter, he didn’t need to know a lot of details. “The broken legs are going to take a while, though, especially since it looks like Osborn gave him something that slowed his healing. Cho thinks we’re looking at a week or ten days before he’s walking again, two or three weeks before he’s back in the field.”

“Yeah, she told me the same thing. That isn’t really what I was asking. This is the kid’s first time round on this particular rodeo. How’s he doing?”

Tony grimaced. “He’s dealing with it.”

“Any signs of PTSD?”

“What do you think?” Tony replied irritably. “Jesus, Fury, he’s less than a week out from being kidnapped and tortured. He’s doing as well as anyone would be.”

“That’s what I wanted to know,” Fury said. “Look, Stark––I know you don’t like hearing it, but the kid’s important, and not just to you. With you and Rogers out of the picture, I need to start thinking about a rebuild.”

“He’s a kid,” Tony hissed. “And he’s got three more years left at MIT, plus any graduate education he wants to do.”

“And as long as the world stays peaceful, I’m happy for him to do that. But if things change––”

“If things change, nothing I say or do is gonna matter,” Tony said wearily. “Peter will come to you if that’s the case.”

“Glad you realize that. So. How is he?”

“He’s dealing with it,” Tony said again, less dismissively this time. “He’s got better coping mechanisms than I ever did, and a lot of people on his side. If he needs to see a therapist, I’ll find him one.”

“Good,” Fury said. “In that case, I’ll let you know when Wilson and Barnes come through. Talk soon, Stark.” He disconnected. 

Tony made a face at the phone. “And fuck you, too, Fury,” he muttered, because Fury’s special brand of manipulation was never going to not rankle. If anything, it rankled even more, aimed at his kid. But Fury wasn’t wrong about a rebuild being necessary. Things had been quiet since Thanos was defeated; all the threats had been homegrown and manageable. But that could change in a heartbeat. 

He went back downstairs. The house was unusually quiet, and he quickly realized why––both Peter and Morgan had fallen asleep on the sofa in front of the TV. Pepper was working at the breakfast bar, answering emails. Tony got them each a beer out of the fridge and set up next to her with his StarkPad, working on some new designs for Peter’s suit. He let the movie run in the background, as soothing white noise. 

Peter and Morgan were both sleeping so peacefully when the movie ended that Tony was reluctant to move them. But he knew they would both sleep better in their beds, and he didn’t want to set the precedent for Morgan of falling asleep in front of the TV. Happily, Morgan didn’t stir when Pepper picked her up to carry her upstairs and tuck her in, leaving Tony to deal with Peter. 

“Hey, kid,” Tony said, gently shaking Peter’s shoulder. “Sorry I can’t carry you.”

“Mmm,” Peter mumbled. He pushed himself up and then hissed in pain. 

“Yeah, let’s get you into bed and get you a painkiller,” Tony said, helping him sit up. Peter roused enough to help Tony transfer him into the wheelchair, but he didn’t say much as Tony pushed him down the hallway. Tony got him into bed and gave him a double dose of the painkiller, as per Bruce’s recommendation, to make sure he slept well. 

Tony thought about offering to stay, but Peter was nearly asleep again. Tony helped him lie flat and ensured his water bottle was within reach and that both his legs were elevated. He brushed the hair back off Peter’s forehead. “Sleep tight, kid. If you need me, tell FRIDAY, okay?”

“Mmhmm,” Peter said, eyes already closing. 

It was early still, but Tony was tired and suspected that, one way or another, he was in for an interrupted night. Pepper seemed to have the same idea; she was already in bed when Tony went upstairs, reading on her tablet. Tony changed into pajamas and climbed in next to her. 

“I thought you might stay downstairs with Peter,” she remarked, glancing at him. 

“I would’ve if he wasn’t already asleep. But I thought it’d be more comfortable for him this way. And I don’t mind the idea of a night in my own bed if I can manage it,” he added with a sigh. “I slept like shit at the compound.”

“Come on, then,” she said, setting her tablet aside. “I think the odds of one of them waking us up is pretty high.”

Sure enough, at 3:04, FRIDAY woke him with a very quiet, “Boss” right in his ear. He opened his eyes. Morgan had crawled in with them at some point, but if she’d woken Tony, he didn’t remember it. He sat up carefully, to avoid disturbing her. “Is he okay, FRI?” 

“His blood pressure and heart rate are very high, indicating a nightmare, and I’ve been unable to wake him.”

“Got it. Thanks.” Tony grabbed his bathrobe and shrugged into it as he hurried out of the bedroom. 

Peter was moving restlessly, covers shoved off and onto the floor, along with the pillows they’d been using to prop up his legs. He was pale and covered in a light sheen of sweat. Tony frowned. “Temperature, FRI?”

“Slightly elevated at 100.2 degrees,” she reported. “It’s not concerning yet, but it’s a sign that he may be fighting a minor infection.”

That was all they needed, Tony thought wearily. First things first: he had to wake the kid without getting punched in the face. Tony stood at the side of the bed, bracing himself to move out of the way if necessary, and shook Peter’s shoulder. “Pete. Pete, you’re dreaming. Wake up.” Peter moaned. There were tears leaking from beneath his closed eyes. “Peter––hey, come on, kid. Up and at ‘em.”

“Tony,” the kid mumbled, voice breaking. 

“That’s right, it’s me.” Tony shook his shoulder again, a little harder this time. 

Peter opened his eyes, but he still looked confused and disoriented––though at least he didn’t try to punch Tony in the face. He blinked up at him, eyes swimming with tears. “T-tony?”

“Yeah, kid,” Tony said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You okay?”

Peter swallowed hard. “Is this... is this real?”

Tony frowned worriedly. “Is what real?”

“Us, here.” His lower lip trembled. “You.”

His breathing was coming awfully fast, Tony thought. “Hey, Pete, look at me,” he said, gently chucking Peter under the chin so he’d look up. “Five things you can see.”

“You,” Peter said. He turned his head so he could look out the window. “The lake. The moon.” He looked back. “The TV. _Star Wars_ poster.”

“Good job. Four things you can touch.”

“Blanket,” Peter said. “Stitch.” The stuffed animal was tucked up against his side. The hand that wasn’t holding Tony’s squeezed it briefly. “You. And, um, my pillow.”

“So good, kiddo. Three things you can hear.”

Peter closed his eyes. “Crickets. An owl. Morgan and Pepper breathing upstairs. She’s in your room?” He opened his eyes, looking for confirmation, and Tony nodded. 

“Two things you can smell.”

Peter drew in a deep breath. “Lake water. You. You smell like... motor oil and cologne.”

“Good job, Pete. One thing you can taste.”

Peter swallowed. “Adrenaline. S’bitter.”

“Okay.” Tony cupped Peter’s jaw in his hand. “So now, what do you think? Is this real?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah.” He frowned. “I don’t feel so hot.”

“You’re running a low-grade fever. Not so unusual when you’ve just had surgery, but I might get Bruce out here to look at you tomorrow morning anyway.” Tony hesitated. “Peter, I wish you’d tell me what’s going on in your head.”

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Peter was quiet for a while, staring blankly at nothing, as far as Tony could tell. “I just can’t. Everything is kind of messed up in my head, ever since Osborn––but it’ll get better, I know it will.”

“It’d help if you didn’t keep everything locked up in here,” Tony replied, gently tapping Peter’s temple. “If you don’t want to talk to me, will you talk to someone else? Pepper?”

“Not Pepper,” Peter said, shaking his head. “I can’t––I can’t––”

“May, then? Or Bruce?

Peter swallowed. “I’ll talk to Bruce. When he comes tomorrow, I’ll talk to him.”

Tony relaxed. “Okay. Thank you. And maybe we should find you someone else to talk to,” he added.

“You mean a therapist.”

“I do.”

“I thought the wait lists were crazy long.”

They were, unfortunately. Mental health services had been in high demand since the first snap, and there were long wait lists for anyone who wasn’t actively suicidal to see a therapist. But Tony knew that even under these circumstances, money mattered. Maybe it shouldn’t, but it did. “We’ll find someone for you,” Tony said firmly. “I promise.”

Peter nodded. He winced. “Can I have another painkiller?”

Tony checked the clock and nodded. “Just one,” he said, shaking it out into his palm. Peter took it. Tony helped him get resituated, straightening out the blankets and propping his feet back up. “Mind if I stay?” Tony asked then, perhaps a little too casually. “Morgan’s taking up two-thirds of the bed upstairs.”

Peter didn't look like he was fooled for a moment, but he just mumbled, “Yeah.”

Tony stretched out on the unoccupied half of the bed under a spare blanket. “You going to get back to sleep, you think?”

“I don’t know,” Peter admitted, resting his head against Tony’s shoulder. 

“Want to watch something?”

“Yeah. _Bake-Off_.”

That just confirmed for Tony that he was feeling _really_ bad. “You heard him, FRI,” Tony said, and the TV across from the bed turned on. “Hang on just a second, Pete,” he added, and got back out of bed. 

In the kitchen, he dug through the cupboard to the very back, where he found the two boxes of Girl Scout cookies that he’d squirreled away in the spring—one of Thin Mints and one of Samoas. Miraculously they were both still there. 

“I hope you understand what a demonstration of my affection this is,” Tony said, returning to Peter’s room with his spoils. “Not just anyone gets to share my out of season Girl Scout cookies with me.”

“This seems... out of character,” Peter said, even as he tore into the Thin Mints.

“I have layers, kid.”

“Sure you do, Shrek.”

Tony glared. Peter smiled back at him around the Thin Mint he’d shoved into his mouth, utterly unconcerned. 

Peter ate most of the pack of Thin Mints over the course of the episode. Tony struggled to stay awake until finally Peter told him he didn’t have to. “If you’re okay with me having the TV on,” he added. “I can turn it way down, or have FRIDAY divert the sound to my headphones.”

“Either of those is fine,” Tony said with a yawn as he lay back down. “Wake me if you need me. I mean it, kid.”

“I will, but I think I’ll be okay,” Peter said. There was something soft and sad in his voice, but when Tony looked at him, he was watching the TV. 

He gave it fifty-fifty odds that he’d be woken again, but the next time he opened his eyes, it was morning. The TV was off, and Peter was asleep in the other half of the bed. There was an empty box of Thin Mints and a half-empty box of Samoas on the duvet. 

“You’re lucky I love you, kid,” Tony whispered, and took the boxes with him as he crept out of bed.

It was just after seven. Bruce was an early riser. He’d probably already finished his morning yoga routine and showered. 

Tony went out to the porch with his phone. A faint mist hung over the lake. The water was still as glass and perfectly mirrored back the shoreline. He put his bluetooth in and asked FRIDAY to call Bruce. 

Bruce picked up after three rings. “Good morning,” he said, sounding far too obnoxiously awake and cheerful for the hour. 

“Hey, Bruce,” Tony said tiredly. 

“You sound like you had a rough night. Is everyone all right?”

“Mostly. Peter’s running a fever. It was about a hundred degrees at three this morning, and now it’s about––” he glanced at the app on his phone that tracked Peter’s vitals–– “100.6. Any chance you could make it out here today to make sure he hasn’t got an infection or something?”

“Of course,” Bruce said. “A low grade fever isn’t unusual post-op, but I’d be happy to look at him. I might put him on antibiotics as a precaution.”

“Thanks.”

“Is there... something else?” Bruce asked after a few seconds of silence. 

“There is,” Tony said slowly. “Did you ever figure out what all Osborn gave him? Particularly the drug we thought was probably psychotropic?”

Bruce sighed. “Not really. Our best guess is that it works on emotional regulation and memory, but that’s about as far as we’ve gotten. Why?” he added sharply. “Has something happened?”

“Nothing highly unusual,” Tony said. “But he’s been having nightmares almost every time he closes his eyes, and he won’t talk about them, at least not to me.”

“I see.”

“He said he’d talk to you about them, when you came today. I know you’re not that kind of doctor,” Tony added, before Bruce could object. “But if it keeps going like this, it’s going to wear us all out. He didn’t get more than a few hours of sleep last night, and that was only after I came downstairs and stayed with him. Will you talk to him?”

“Of course,” Bruce said. “Though I’m baffled as to why he’d rather talk to me than you.”

“I don’t know, either,” Tony admitted. “But it’s not the first time he’s refused to talk to me about a nightmare.”

“Oh?”

“Occasionally he calls me in the middle of the night, asks me to talk to him for a couple of minutes, and then we both go back to sleep. He won’t tell me anything about why.”

“How long has that been going on?” Bruce asked. 

“Since he came back. It’s less frequent than it was.”

“I see.” 

That was all Bruce said. Tony waited and finally prompted, “Bruce?”

“I’m thinking.”

“You have a theory?”

“I do. But I’d prefer not to share it until I talk to Peter. I’ll be up around lunchtime, is that all right?”

“That’s fine. You want to stay over?”

“No, I think I’ll come back to the compound. That fold-out was not made for someone my size.”

“Fair point, big green,” Tony said with a smile. “All right, we’ll see you in a few hours.”

They disconnected. Tony could hear faint movement coming from within the house––probably Morgan, who was an early riser and made sure everyone around her was, too. This was confirmed a minute or two later, when the door to the porch banged open and Morgan came out––barefoot, clad in pajamas, and still rubbing her eyes sleepily. 

“Good morning, Morguna,” Tony said, pulling her into his lap. “You sleep well?” She nodded. “Is Mom in the shower?” Another nod. “You want some breakfast?” She shook her head, resting her head on his collarbone. “Maybe in a few minutes, then. Your dad’s gonna need some coffee before long. Uncle Bruce is gonna come visit us this afternoon, that sound good to you?” She nodded, smiling a little. “Yeah, me, too. And maybe we can help Peter down to the lake and hang out outside for a bit.”

“Swimming?” she asked hopefully. 

“Well, not for Peter, but for the rest of us, sure.” Tony tightened his arms around her. “Hey, kiddo, you did really good yesterday, helping Peter feel better. I’m proud of you. I know it’s scary to see him hurt, but you were really brave. Do you feel a little bit better now?”

“Yeah,” she said. “But I still don’t like it.”

“I know, baby,” he sighed. “Me neither. But that’s okay. And it’s also okay if you decide you need to go play with your toys or hang out in your tent for a little while.”

“I wanna go swimming today,” she said firmly. 

“You got it, kiddo.” He kissed the top of her head. “But before swimming, you know what we need?”

“Breakfast?”

“Breakfast. And coffee, but mostly breakfast. I think there’s raspberry stuff left, we can put it on toast. That sound good?”

“Yep.” She slid off his lap and grabbed his hand, leading him inside.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce arrives, and secrets come out.

Bruce arrived in the late morning, landing the Quinjet neatly on the grassy area behind the house. Morgan, in a swimsuit and water wings, went tearing off as soon as she heard it. Tony followed, while Pepper stayed back with Peter, lying on a chaise on the dock. 

“Hey, Morgan! Wow, you’ve gotten big since I saw you for your dad’s birthday. And I could swear that was only five minutes ago.”

“I grew an inch! Daddy marked it on the doorway.”

“That’s amazing. Have I gotten any bigger?”

“You’re always big,” she giggled. 

“That’s true,” he said, and slung her up to sit on one shoulder. She looked tiny next to him—tiny and utterly fearless. She had never known Bruce before his integration. He had always been her gentle Uncle Bruce, who happened to be giant, green, and jolly. 

“Thanks for coming, Bruce,” Tony said.

“Don’t mention it. How’s he doing?”

“Okay. We’re hanging out by the water. I think the fresh air is doing us all good.”

“Can we play in the lake later?” Morgan asked, tugging on Bruce’s hair to get his attention. 

“Sure, sweetheart. But first I’m going to spend some time with Peter, okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed, a little reluctantly. 

She didn’t look half as reluctant as Peter did, though, when Bruce suggested they go up to the house so he could look at the incisions and they could talk in private. “We could have lunch first,” Peter hedged.

Tony exchanged a swift glance with Bruce. “We can if you want,” Tony said. “But frankly, if there is any kind of infection, I’d rather we not give it more time than we already have.” He didn’t think there was; Peter’s temperature was holding steady and hadn’t hit 101, but he knew this wasn’t going to get easier. Whatever part of the conversation Peter was dreading, he was still going to be dreading it after lunch. 

“Yeah,” Peter said. “Yeah, okay.” 

He let Bruce transfer him from the chaise and into the wheelchair. Tony hesitated briefly and then ruffled his hair gently. “I’m here when you need me.”

The look Peter gave him in response to that was oddly intense. “I know you are,” he said, and then nodded to Bruce, who pushed him up the path toward the house.

The kid’s nerves were catching; Tony didn’t think there was anything to be worried about, but the fact that he was so obviously freaked out was freaking Tony out. He got a beer from the cooler they had brought down with them and settled at the end of the dock with his feet in the water. Morgan was splashing around in the shallows with a small flotilla of toy boats.

“Beer at eleven in the morning?” Pepper said as she sat down next to him. “Has 2005 Tony Stark made a reappearance? Because I’ll tell you, I didn’t agree to marry 2005 Tony.”

“Haha, no,” Tony said, pulling a face at her. “I’m just having the one. I’ll even share it with you.” Tony offered it to her, and she took it, sipped, and handed it back. “2005 Tony wouldn’t have been drinking beer at eleven, anyway. Screwdrivers, at least. Or just vodka, neat. Cut back on the carbs.”

“Fair point.” She leaned back on her hands, keeping one eye on Morgan. “You going to tell me what’s going on?”

“I would if I knew,” Tony said ruefully. “The kid’s having nightmares just about every time he closes his eyes, but I don’t think it’s about Osborn. He’d tell me that. This is... something else.” He took a long pull on his beer. “I trust Bruce with him.”

Pepper nodded. She held her hand out for the beer, and Tony passed it back to her.

Twenty minutes later, Tony’s phone buzzed. He glanced down, expecting it to be from Bruce or maybe Peter. Instead it was from Fury.

_Got him._

Tony stiffened. He hadn’t _forgotten_ that the mission to capture Osborn was happening, somewhere, but it hadn’t been at the forefront of his mind. He’d been far more focused on his kid.

 _Any injuries?_ he asked, because it was likely to be Peter’s first question.

_Barnes broke his wrist. Should be fine by tomorrow._

_Where are you keeping him?_

_Where do you think?_

Tony gritted his teeth. He didn’t love the reminder that some version of the Raft was still out there, but he acknowledged that there wasn’t really anywhere else to hold someone like the Green Goblin. 

_He gets a fair trial_ , Tony wrote back. _We have to set better precedent this time around._ After everything, the Accords had seemed like small potatoes, but Tony knew that it was a reprieve at best; at some point the government—and the public—would stop feeling grateful. They’d have to be ready when that happened. 

_Is the kid ready for that? It could get ugly._

_I’ll talk to him_ , Tony replied. _With all the evidence we collected, we might be able to keep his face out of it._

It seemed unlikely, and Osborn would have excellent lawyers—not as good as Tony’s, but close. It could get rough, and Tony wasn’t sure that Peter was ready for it. 

But that was a problem for the future. For the moment, Osborn was in custody, and he wasn’t getting out any time soon. Peter was safe. 

“Tony?” Pepper said, sounding alarmed. “What’s going on? Your face...”

“They got him.” Tony set his phone down and took a deep breath, looking over at Morgan, grounding himself. “Osborn.”

“Oh,” Pepper said, releasing a breath in relief. “Thank God.”

“Yeah.”

She looked at him. “You really did it. You let Bucky and Sam go after him.”

“I told you I would.”

“I know, I just...” She shook her head. “I didn’t really believe it.”

Tony looked down at his hands. “You were right. This was where I needed to be. They could do that part. This, being here with Peter, was the thing that no one else could do. He said as much to me, in fact,” he added, looking at her. “He said he needs me here, with him, not saving the universe.”

Pepper nodded. She gave a watery laugh, then wiped her eyes. “Sorry, sorry, I’m just—I’d made my peace with it, but I’m awfully relieved anyway.”

“I can’t promise I won’t ever decide it’s worth it,” he told her. “If it’s you or one of the kids––if there’s another Thanos, God forbid––”

“I’d expect nothing less.” She cupped the side of his face with her hand, and kissed him. 

Tony’s phone buzzed again. He glanced down at it. _Come on up_ , Bruce had written. 

“That’s my cue,” he said. “Any advice?”

“You don’t need my advice,” she said with a serene confidence that he envied. “You know Peter better than anyone does, except maybe May. You’ve got this, whatever it is.”

“Thanks,” he said, and pushed himself to his feet. 

Tony found the two of them in the living room, Bruce sitting cross legged on the floor and Peter stretched out on the sofa. Peter’s eyes were red and his face was wet. Tony didn’t miss the look of relief that crossed his face when he saw Tony come in.

“Hey kid,” Tony said, trying not to sound as alarmed as he felt. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, a little shakily. “Could I have a painkiller? And a glass of water?”

Tony glanced at his watch and nodded. “Yeah. It’s about time.” He got Peter’s pills and a glass of water and brought them to him. Then he sat on the sofa next to him and cupped the back of Peter’s neck with his hand as Peter gulped down the water. Tony glanced at Bruce. He seemed... not worried. Sad, maybe.

“Thanks,” Peter said, a little breathlessly, when he was done. Tony set the glass aside and settled in a little closer. Peter tipped to the side so he was resting against Tony’s chest. Tony brought his arms up to hold him.

Bruce cleared his throat. “First things first, there’s no infection that I or the scanner can detect. I think the fever is just Peter’s body doing what it needs to do. I’m going to hold off on the antibiotics. If his fever goes up, we can revisit it, of course, but I think it probably won’t.”

“Good,” Tony said, relaxing a little. He rubbed a hand up and down Peter’s back. 

“Now, as for everything else... Peter? You want to tell Tony what you told me?”

“Not really,” Peter muttered, but he sat up with a sigh. He looked at Tony. “Ever since I came back—since the battle with Thanos...” He trailed off and looked at Bruce helplessly. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Remember what I said,” Bruce said gently. “Don’t give it more power than it deserves.”

“Yeah.” Peter visibly forced himself to look at Tony again. “Ever since the battle with Thanos, I’ve had a recurring dream about you dying. It’s always the same and it’s—really vivid. Like, all five senses and in HD.”

“Oh,” Tony said. He wasn’t that surprised if he was honest. The fact that the kid called him afterward had pointed toward something like that. “How—?”

“You did the snap,” Peter whispered, hunching his shoulders. “The second one, the one Captain Danvers did. Only—only it killed you. It’s... really awful. But I was handling it, I thought, and I wasn’t having it as often.”

Peter swallowed, then took a deep breath. “But then, when Osborn had me... he gave me something that kind of... I don’t know how to describe it. It dredged up the dream, only I was already awake so I couldn’t wake up, and it superimposed it over everything that’s happened since. I was sure you were dead. I was so, so sure. I almost had memories of it––not just your actual death, but––but everything else. After.”

“Aw, kid,” Tony said, stroking a hand through his hair. 

“Since then I’ve had it every time I’ve tried to sleep, unless you’re with me. And when I wake up,” he added, voice breaking, “if I’m alone, I have this moment where I just––where I don’t know what’s real.”

Tony sighed. Peter slumped into his arms, and Tony held him close. “I wish you’d told me.”

“This is going to sound really stupid,” Peter muttered, “but I started to feel like if I told you, it might happen, even though it _didn’t_. It’d gotten way too big in my head. And I didn’t want to––to burden anyone else with it.”

“Yeah,” Tony murmured, “I get that. But it’s out now. Do you feel better?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah. But that’s––that’s not the end of it.” He looked at Bruce. 

“Not the end of it?” Tony repeated. “What’s that mean?”

“It means that Peter isn’t the only one who’s had that dream since Thanos,” Bruce said. “Carol and I have both been having dreams about––well, we think they’re about other universes. I’ve dreamed about you dying several times. It didn’t happen here, obviously, but it seems it did in at least one other universe. Strange said it was one of the likelier outcomes, actually.”

 _Jesus fucking Christ._ Tony decided he had to focus on the part of that he knew what to do with. “What does Strange have to do with this?” 

“Carol and I have been consulting with him. It seems that the snaps might’ve weakened the walls between universes. I’ll need to run this theory by Strange, who might want to talk to Peter, but I suspect that something about Peter’s powers might make him more susceptible to connections across universes. The nightmares are likely a result of that.”

“And the drug that Osborn gave him?” Tony asked.

“Our tests indicate that it was much more mundane. It was likely designed as a form of psychological torture to induce waking nightmares of whatever the subject dreads the most. In this case, it drew on dreams that Peter was already having.”

Tony frowned. “Any chance you can make the dreams stop?” 

Bruce tilted his hand back and forth. “Peter’s body has almost certainly flushed the drug out of his system already, though I’d like to take a blood sample just to be sure. I’ll speak to Strange, but I’m fairly certain that the nightmares he’s having now are his brain’s very normal way of processing what happened to him.”

Tony relaxed slightly. _Normal_ was––well, it was relative. Normal trauma from this universe was still trauma. Truthfully, he had no fucking clue what to do with the idea that his death had been possible or even likely; he’d known that, of course, even accepted it at the time, but in retrospect, knowing what he would’ve missed, it was too much to contemplate. 

No wonder Peter had been so adamant that he needed Tony here, with him. 

“Well, we might at least be able to confirm what Osborn gave him,” Tony said, looking at Peter. “Fury contacted me to let me know that Sam and Bucky got him. He’s in Avengers custody.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “He is? I didn’t even know they were going after him. Osborn was my problem, not theirs!”

“Yeah, kid, that’s not how it works,” Tony said. “You have a team, and Osborn was a serious threat.”

“Did either of them get hurt?” Peter asked. 

“Barnes broke his wrist, but he’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

Peter’s jaw set mulishly. “I should’ve taken care of him myself. Bucky and Sam shouldn’t have to clean up after me. I haven’t even asked what was happening with him, I just assumed...” Peter shook his head, clearly furious with himself. 

“Pete, listen up,” Tony said, ducking his head and forcing Peter to look at him. “Bucky and Sam weren’t cleaning up after you, they were taking care of a problem that needed to be dealt with while you recovered. This wasn’t them treating you like a kid or whatever it is you’re thinking. This is _team_. We weren’t always very good at it before, but everyone is trying to be better this time around, and that means having each other’s backs. Are you hearing me?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, reluctantly. He looked up at Tony. “You didn’t go with them.”

Tony couldn’t read his tone or the look on his face. “You told me you needed me here. Would you rather I’d gone?”

“No,” Peter said, shaking his head. “Really, really no. Thank you.” He wrapped his arms around Tony and hugged him tight. 

“I don’t know why you’re thanking me,” Tony muttered into Peter’s hair. “If you want to thank anyone, it should be Bucky and Sam. Maybe we’ll have them out when you’re out of the wheelchair, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, voice trembling slightly. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

There was a brief silence. “I think I promised Morgan I’d go swimming with her,” Bruce said at last, standing. Tony startled; he’d almost forgotten he was there. 

“You sticking around for a bit?” Tony asked, looking up at him. 

“For a few hours, anyway,” Bruce replied. “I’ll see you guys down there.” He turned to head out.

“Dr. Banner,” Peter said suddenly. Bruce turned back. Peter swallowed. “Bruce. Thank you.”

“Yeah, Bruce, thank you,” Tony added. 

Bruce smiled at them both. “Anytime,” he said, and left the two of them alone in the house. 

Neither of them said anything for several minutes. Peter still rested against him, and Tony kept holding him, albeit not as tightly as he had been. “Did that... help?” Tony finally asked, tentatively. 

“I don’t know,” Peter sighed. “I mean... I’m glad to have it out. You were right, keeping it locked up in my head wasn’t doing me any good. Bruce said that keeping it a secret was giving it more power than it deserves. So—so I’m glad you know.”

“But?” Tony prompted after a beat or two of silence. 

“But... but I don’t know how to feel about—about the rest. About knowing that it really happened—not to us, but that was just luck, wasn’t it? It could’ve been us. I could’ve lost you, right when I came back. And that... I don’t even know what to do with that.”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “I hear you.” He wondered if Bruce would have ever told him about his own dreams, if not for this. Maybe not. What would’ve been the point, anyway?

“I think,” Tony finally said, very slowly, “this might be the sort of truth you just have to learn to live with and not think about very much. Obsessing about it won’t change anything.”

“So you’re telling me not to think about it?” Peter replied incredulously. “That’s your advice?”

“Yes,” Tony said quietly. “There might be times it’s unavoidable, like if Strange wants to speak to you or you have a nightmare. I’m always here if you need to talk about it, and I’m sure Bruce is, too. But on a day-to-day basis, I think the best thing to do is try not to think about it too much. You could make yourself crazy with it.”

 _He_ could make himself crazy with it, Tony knew. He could make himself crazy thinking about the other universe’s Peter—or its Pepper, or—oh God—its _Morgan_. Assuming she existed there at all.

Tony had accepted that he might die in the push to get everyone back. He’d even recorded a message for Pepper and Morgan and the others to listen to if he did. But once he’d survived, he’d shoved all of that way down deep and never imagined what it would’ve been like for everyone he loved if he hadn’t. And now he couldn’t stop imagining it. 

He _had_ to stop. 

“I don’t know if I can just not think about it,” Peter said. 

“It’ll get easier,” Tony said. “The dreams were tapering off, you said, before Osborn took you. They will again.”

Peter nodded. “I just... I wish I could help him.”

Tony didn’t have to ask who Peter was talking about. “Me too. But, kid, we don’t know that you don’t. If you’re getting that from him, maybe he gets some of this from you.” Tony tightened his arms around Peter’s shoulders briefly. 

Peter’s eyes widened. “You think so?”

“Truthfully? I have no idea. But why wouldn’t it go both ways?”

Peter bit his lip. “And do you think it’d help? Or do you think... he might hate me, for getting to have you when he doesn’t get to have his Tony.”

“I don’t know,” Tony admitted. “But I like to think that it comforts him. I think I have to think that.”

“Yeah.” Peter swallowed, his eyes bright. “I think I have to, too. I think—I think if I believe that, maybe I can live with this.”

Tony gave a quiet sigh of relief. It would’ve been inaudible to anyone but Peter, but Tony could tell from the way Peter glanced at him that he’d heard. 

For a minute or two they simply sat there, neither of them speaking, both trying––Tony thought––to achieve some kind of equilibrium. Finally Tony cleared his throat. “Do you want to go back out? We could make some lunch and take it out to the others.”

“Yeah.” Peter rolled his shoulders, physically shrugging everything off—for the moment, at least. “Let’s do that.”

It was hard for Peter to help with lunch from the wheelchair, so Tony made the sandwiches and packed them up, along with some snap peas and celery and carrots. Peter carried the picnic basket on his lap as Tony pushed him out of the house and down the ramp. 

“I can’t wait to be out of this thing,” Peter sighed. 

“Soon, Pete.”

“Not soon enough.”

Tony ruffled his hair and pushed him down the path toward the water. Bruce was out with Morgan, swimming around in the middle of the lake while she perched on his exposed back, with her water wings on for safety. Tony could hear her laughing all the way from the dock. Pepper had taken one of the floaties and was maybe twenty yards out, keeping an eye on things. Tony helped Peter transfer back over to his lounge chair and got him a soda. Pepper had finished Tony’s beer, so he grabbed a fresh one from the cooler before sitting down on the end of the dock with his feet in the water. 

The two of them sat in silence again for a while, listening to Morgan giggle. It was easier to try and make himself forget here, Tony reflected. In the sunshine, listening to his daughter laugh, with almost everyone he loved within view, it was easy to think that it couldn’t have turned out any other way. 

“I love you,” Peter said abruptly. 

“Uh...” Tony said, blinking at him. 

“I don’t say it a lot, I know.”

“It’s okay, kid, neither do I.”

“But it’s true,” Peter went on, as though Tony hadn’t spoken. “I love you.”

Tony bought himself a few seconds by taking a swig of his beer. “Any particular occasion?” he asked at last. 

Peter was silent for a few seconds. “He never got to say it. To his Tony.”

“How do you––”

“I _know_ ,” Peter said. Tony looked up and watched him draw a shaky breath. “I can feel it in the dream. The regret.”

“Jesus,” Tony murmured. 

“I know you said I shouldn’t think about it, but... I just never want to feel that way. Like I didn’t say it enough or I have to wonder if you knew. So. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Tony said. He reached over and put his hand on Peter’s ankle. “And I know you do, Pete. Never doubt that. His Tony knew, too, I’m sure.”

“I hope so,” Peter said in a hoarse, tight voice. Tony tightened his hand on his ankle, and Peter’s hand came to rest on his shoulder. 

They stayed like that until the others came back in for lunch. Tony distributed sandwiches and sodas and distracted Morgan so that she’d leave Bruce alone long enough for him to eat. Peter was unusually quiet, and Tony could sense Pepper eyeing them both. But she didn’t say a word about it until everyone had finished eating, and Morgan had dragged Bruce off in search of skipping rocks.

“Everything okay?” Pepper asked him as they packed up the empty containers and sandwich wrappers to take back up to the house. 

Tony looked at Peter. Peter met his gaze, and Tony suddenly understood why Peter hadn’t wanted to tell anyone. It was too much to ask Pepper to bear. It wouldn’t change anything, and Tony just... he didn’t want her to know. He wanted to spare her that, if he could. 

“Yeah,” Tony said, and pulled her close to kiss her lightly. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

She didn’t look like she completely believed him, but something in his voice must have told her not to keep pressing. Instead she said, “What are the odds of us getting Morgan to take her nap this afternoon?” 

Tony and Peter both laughed. Tony felt something that had been tight and anxious in his chest all morning loosen suddenly, letting go, as though that was all that was needed to break the tension. He moved to ruffle Peter’s hair, and Peter looked up at him, still grinning. 

“All right, but when she melts down one of you has to deal with her,” Pepper said, smiling despite herself. “Not it.”

“Not it,” Peter added quickly. 

Tony thought––couldn’t help but think––about the other him. The one who never got to have this with his family––his whole family, complete, both his kids alive and well in one place. The one who would’ve given a hell of a lot to deal with a screaming Morgan or a pissed off Pepper or an overly reckless Peter.

“Yeah, okay,” he said, and moved his hand to Peter’s shoulder. Peter leaned his head against Tony’s wrist. “I’ll do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did tag it as "Endgame compliant"... because technically it is. 
> 
> Stay tuned for the epilogue (up in just a minute or two).


	4. Epilogue

It was a clear summer afternoon the next weekend when Sam, Bucky, and Rhodey came out to the house. The morning had been dreary, but the clouds had parted and it looked like it was going to be a beautiful afternoon and evening to spend on the lake. 

Peter had been unusually twitchy for a couple days now. He’d graduated from the wheelchair to double crutches the day before, but something was clearly weighing on him. Tony didn’t know if it had more to do with Osborn or the dreams-from-another-universe, but all his inquiries had been met with grunted monosyllabic answers. May hadn’t had any better luck since she and Happy had arrived the night before, but she seemed unperturbed.

The dreams themselves seemed to have tapered off a little. It seemed like getting it all out in the open had helped that much, at least. 

It was a little after noon when the others arrived. Morgan heard the car pull up and bolted out the door, eager to see her Uncle Rhodey. Tony ran after her and scooped her up, setting her on his shoulders. She almost dove off of them when she saw Rhodey, but fortunately both Tony and Rhodey were expecting it, and caught her before she got anywhere near the ground. 

“Thanks for coming all the way up here,” Tony said, once Morgan had dragged Rhodey off to see the new addition to her tent. “I know it’s a drive from the compound.”

Sam shook his head. “I’m always looking for a reason to get off campus that doesn’t involve anyone shooting at me. Besides,” he added, glancing at Bucky, “I think we’ve both been pretty worried about the kid.”

“He’s doing a lot better,” Tony said. “He’s on crutches and probably will be for four or five days, but Bruce was pleased by his progress when he came out yesterday.”

“And the rest?” Bucky asked quietly. 

“A work in progress,” Tony admitted. “I think it did him good to know Osborn was off the streets. Thank you, both, for that.”

“It was... well, not exactly a pleasure,” Sam said. 

“It was a pleasure for me,” Bucky said with a sharp smile. 

“More chaos and destruction?” Tony asked.

“Oh yeah. I’m still working on a compilation video for Peter. Wasn’t sure he’d be ready for it just yet.”

“Maybe not,” Tony agreed, just as the front door opened and Peter hobbled out. He made his way very carefully down the stairs. Tony went to meet him, but didn’t try to help; Peter was determined to get himself around as much as possible.

“You look like you’re on the mend, Peter,” Sam said. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” Peter said with a quick, almost embarrassed smile. “Thanks for coming out to visit.”

“Anytime,” Bucky said, and slung his arm around Peter’s shoulders, squeezing them gently.

Peter looked like he was about to say something else but then changed his mind. Tony decided it was time to herd everyone inside. There was brief chaos, with another round of greetings and small talk, as Tony finished packing up the food to take with them down to the water. They had hot dogs to roast over the fire pit Peter had helped Tony build a few weeks before he’d been hurt, along with a variety of picnic foods, and s’mores for later. 

Peter hung back, still unusually quiet. Tony kept an eye on him, wondering if he was in pain, but he seemed okay. Peter stayed close to May and let her get him settled in one of the chaises. She took care of fixing him a plate, while Tony focused on getting Morgan fed and watered despite her total disinterest in eating when she could be playing with any of the superheroes currently in residence. 

After lunch, the group split: Morgan and Pepper went up to the house for a nap and a conference call, respectively; Happy coaxed May into taking a walk on the trail that led along the shoreline; and Tony, glancing at Peter, suggested that the rest of them take the boat out for a spin. 

That perked Peter right up, as Tony had hoped it would. They grabbed one of the coolers and a couple of fishing poles and loaded everything into the pontoon boat. It floated just about level with the dock, so getting Peter onboard was easy, and there were lots of places for him to sit with his legs up. Rhodey helped Tony cast off and back out of the dock as though they’d done it a million times—because, in fact, they had. 

The lake wasn’t all that big, but there were a few spots that Tony really liked. One of them was a little inlet, just around the bend from the house, which had good swimming and decent fishing. It was also just a pretty place to sit. Tony anchored the boat and cracked open a ginger beer for Peter and real beers for everyone else.

“You know,” Peter said, “technically I’m twenty-three.”

“Technically you’re also still taking Bruce’s super soldier painkillers,” Tony said, going to sit by the kid in the back of the boat. “If you want to have a beer, that’s fine with me. I assume you had at least a few this year. But not while you’re on souped-up narcotics.”

“Fair point, I guess.”

“How was your first year?” Rhodey asked.“I feel like I’ve barely seen you since the semester ended.”

“Well, you _did_ ,” Peter pointed out. “It just wasn’t a great time for small talk about my classes.”

“Truth,” Rhodey said. 

Peter fell silent, picking at the label on his bottle. “I never got a chance to thank you guys for that. So. Um. Thanks. And for—for taking care of everything after, even though Osborn isn’t really your problem.”

“Hey, Osborn was up to some bad shit,” Sam said. “We’re lucky the only person who seems to have accidentally gotten super powers from his experiments is a teenager with an ironclad moral compass. He could be churning out super villains every week, and just speaking personally, I do not have the time or energy for that.”

“I do,” Bucky said helpfully, “but it sounds annoying as fuck.”

“Still,” Peter said. “It wasn’t your job. And I just––I’m sorry you had to, I guess.”

Bucky squinted at him. “Are you apologizing? Seriously?” He looked at Tony. “Stark, is your kid for real?”

“A question I ask myself every day,” Tony sighed. 

“Peter,” Sam said gently, “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I should’ve been able to take care of Osborn myself.”

“Um, no,” Bucky said. “You probably haven’t seen the inventory yet of all the shit that guy had in his lab, but it is fucking nightmare. Radioactive spiders were the least of it. He wasn’t a low-level criminal, he was _bad news_.”

“And even if he wasn’t,” Rhodey added, “you don’t have to do things on your own. That’s what you have a team for. Literally.”

“Yeah, but––”

“No but’s, Peter,” Sam said. “If any of us were in trouble––if it’d been Rhodey or Bucky or me––you wouldn’t have hesitated, right?”

“No, but––”

“So what’s the difference?”

“I... don’t know,” Peter said awkwardly. “Bucky got hurt––”

“Pff, broken wrist, barely felt it.”

“––and I just––I don’t like people getting hurt because of me,” Peter finished, swallowing hard. “We were lucky that it was just a broken wrist. If one of you had gotten _really_ hurt because of me, it would’ve––I would’ve––”

Tony decided it was time to intervene. “Kid, I know you’ve got a guilt-and-martyr complex the size of Manhattan, but even you have to admit that Sam and Bucky and Rhodey know their shit. They’ve been doing this for a while, and they’ve got some pretty serious skills, right?”

“Yeah,” Peter admitted reluctantly. 

“And they know what they’re getting into, right? They know what they’re risking?”

“Yeah,” Peter muttered. 

“So if they get hurt, it is not your fault. It is the risk we all run to protect everyone from assholes like Osborn who could and would cause serious harm if we didn’t.” Tony stared at Peter until Peter looked up and met his eyes. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yeah. And––and we are a team,” Peter added, looking at them. “I don’t want you to think I don’t think of us as a team. I guess I’m just used to being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman. Osborn is... kind of the biggest baddie I’ve faced that wasn’t, you know, trying to end the universe.”

“And he won’t be the last,” Rhodey said. “But you don’t have to deal with them alone, and you never, ever have to fucking apologize for needing help.”

“Yeah,” Sam said. 

“What he said,” Bucky said. 

“Okay,” Peter said. “I guess it’s hard to argue with that.”

“Wait, what?” Tony said, sitting up in mock outrage. “I’ve been saying the exact same thing for the past three years till I was blue in the fucking face. But these assholes say it once and you just _accept_ it?”

“If it makes you feel better, the odds of it actually changing either my behavior or the anxiety loop my brain is on most of the time are kind of low,” Peter pointed out.

“That... does not make me feel better,” Tony said with a sigh. Though he supposed he had to give the kid points for honesty.

Peter shrugged, but he looked a lot less bothered than he had. They all kind of chose to drop it after that; Rhodey asked Peter about his first year at MIT, and that carried them for a while. Peter, it transpired, was not much into beer, but he had had an experience with Fireball whiskey that inspired the phrase “never again.”

After an hour or so, it got pretty hot on the boat. Bucky, Sam, and Rhodey all jumped in and swam out to a rock about a hundred yards away. Tony was pretty overheated himself, but Peter couldn’t swim yet. Tony settled for dunking a towel in the water and slinging it around his neck. He did one for Peter, too, and got them both bottles of water, and for a minute or two, they just sat, listening the others splashing around. 

“It is different now,” Peter said abruptly.

“What?” 

“It was just me and you before. It wasn’t really a team situation. So it is different now.”

“I’m on your team,” Tony said, a little hurt. “I’m always on your team.”

Peter’s face softened. “I know. But it’s––it’s different with us. We’re not team, we’re family. And I know there’s some overlap, but it’s like you said. We all run risks. But your life isn’t an acceptable risk to me, not anymore, and I know mine isn’t to you.”

“No,” Tony said quietly. “No, it’s not.” He wasn’t sure it ever had been. 

“They’ve got my back, but I’m not their kid. And that’s okay, that’s how it should be. But that’s the difference.”

“Yeah,” Tony said hoarsely. He reached over and ruffled Peter’s hair, then pulled him down to rest his head on his shoulder. He knew what they were both thinking about just then––the exact thing he’d said they should try not to think about, if they could help it. 

But neither of them said anything. They didn’t have to.

_Fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love! 
> 
> There is a follow-up to this that I didn't include in the series because it is completely different in tone from all the others. It is very angsty (though also contains lots of comfort, because I am me): [In Another Life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19911697).


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